A World of Hope
by Ashwood's Flame
Summary: AU Marilla Thranduilion has just turned twenty-eight years of age. When her choices go against the rules of the White Council, they backfire and causes her to go back in time nearly 200 years. Her reasons for time travel become known to those she travels with the further in her travels with Thorin Oakenshield, who slowly begins to realize she is more than meets the eye.T/M rating
1. Chapter 1

**Alrights, so I've decided that Marilla (Almost typed Mishiva there, how bad is that?) should be older than her thirties when she meets Thorin, so I've upped the time she falls back on to 230 years. If any of you are smart enough to realize what that gap means, it means that she'll land approximately twenty years before the fall of Erebor (60 years before the fall of Thror and 120 years before the Quest for Erebor + the 90 between that she overestimated for the first time. Pippa's Ghost, ThorinKiliandFili4ever, if you have any comments about the newest pilot chapter, you may PM/guest review and I will understand. It is a flaw that I found really grating my skin as Kili - who is 79, almost 80, years old - would be courting/marrying (SPOILERS!) a mere babe in both elven and dwarven eyes, so SHE MUST BE OLDER!**

**(Normally I'm screaming she has to be younger. Damn, writing for dwarves changes people...) I hope you enjoy the change.**

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***Rant Mode Activated***

**So... This is the rewrite of **_A World of Hope_**, which I have deleted. If you wish for the original story, Private Message me, but please do not publish it. Now, I've changed a lot of things, as several stories I've read has changed my view point of Thranduil, or the Elvenking, so he will be portrayed as a good guy. This is an AU, which means I can bend the story as much as I want to. It will be an Aragorn/Legolas Thorin/Bilbo thing as those are my favorite pairings in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings fan archives. It will also be a Kili/OC. Many things will be different if you have read the first attempt at this. My OC is no longer Mishiva, she's now Marilla, which is elvish for something... There will be both Sindarin and Khudzul in here, the translations at the bottom of each chapter. If I cannot find a good website for Khudzul soon, I'm gonna rip out my hair, because I only have one sentence in the second chapter that I can use and it's the first thing someone says! Any suggestions are welcome! Anyways, I plan on having extra long chapters, especially for the sixty years in between The Hobbit and Fellowship of the Ring, which will major plot development as that's where Marilla changes alot of things.**

***Rant Mode Deactivated***

**phew, I'm tired now! Anyways, here's a description of Marilla, whose last name shall be the most obvious that I could've chosen from: Thranduilson. Please understand it was that or nothing, and I prefere my characters to have a last name for when they get caught or in trouble!**

Marilla 'Mari' Thranduilson:

Honey blonde hair that goes to her waist

One silver eye, one grey eye

Scarred arms from catching herself from falling into the smelting pit while watching Gimli work

Her past remains almost the same as the previous story with major exceptions. Aragorn and Legolas knew they were fae mates and Thranduil accepted that. They lived in Gondor, where Marilla saw her 'daddy' (Aragorn) perhaps three times a week. They were camping on the border of Gondor and Rohan for almost a week before the Orc known as Bolg (Or whatever the son of Azog was called) led the raid and killed the two, who were protecting Marilla. They had also killed the guards that went with them as well. Marilla had stayed in both Rivendell and Greenwood for a year to get to know both of her grandfathers before going off to live in Erebor with her godfather, as both Elrond and Thranduil were fighting off the oddly massive legions of orcs trying to get the 'peredhel of Gondor'. Every year on her birthday, as that was when her parents were slaughtered, Marilla would go to Rivendell a few days beforehand and meet with the Lords of Gondor and a few lords of Greenwood as well as both her grandfathers and the fellowship members that was still living or in Middle-earth. Gandalf had stayed (Merely because the plot called for it), but unlike the other story, Frodo had sailed.

**For the life of me, I can't remember if Elrond sailed or not, so please tell me! Here's the summary!**

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AU; Marilla Thranduilson has just turned twenty-eight years of age. When her choices go against the rules of the White Council, they backfire and causes her to go back in time ninety-three years. Her reasons for time travel become known to those she travels with the further in her travels with Thorin Oakenshield, who slowly begins to realize there is more than meets the eye to this Peredhel than any of them knew.

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Here's chapter 1! I do not own Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or and character you recognize!

**This** is Aragorn

This is Legolas

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A honey blonde Peredhel crept through the ever winding halls of The Lonely Mountain, otherwise known as Erebor to all who lived on the eastern side of the Lonely Mountains, attempting to find the mines that led to the heart of the mountain. No, she wasn't stealing the Arkenstone. She wished to visit the graves of Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli, and Kíli Durin. Finally, she found the long abandoned diamond mine and shifted her bow and quiver, looking at it balefully. If her plan succeeded, then there was no way she could take these… But she could take her other bow… Shaking her head, the blonde crept until she reached a door that looked like no door. She traced the Khudzul traced on it. It roughly translated into '_Here lies King under the Mountain Thorin II Oakenshield, Prince Fíli, and Prince Kíli_' in Common Tongue.

There were footsteps behind her and she jumped, taking out a wicked looking hunting dagger and got in a ready battle position. "Ah, Marilla, there you are!" A familiar voice said. The Peredhel only relaxed slightly as she realized who it was. A male clad in white with a staff stepped into the torch light with a tight smile. "Your godfather was worried when he couldn't find you."

"So he checks on me in the middle of the night?" Marilla asked, her voice higher than her normal river like voice out of nervousness.

"You're but a babe to him. The same with both of your grandfathers." The wizard pointed out. "One of whom is searching rather desperately for you in Mirkwood."

"The darkness from that land is cleansed." Marilla pointed out, crossing her arms. "I do not understand why men call it Mirkwood still."

"It is hard to sway men from what they are used to." The wizard pointed out. "Why are you down here?"

"I…" Marilla looked down and to the right, as up and to the left meant she was lying. "Wanted to see their graves. I heard so much and thought it would've be respectful not to thank them for reclaiming our home." For the past eighteen years, Erebor had become the peredhel's home, for her parents had been brutally slain directly on her eighth birthday.

"You must rest. It will be a tiring day tomorrow." He was speaking of her 28 birthday. She was going to travel the way the Elven-queen Galadriel to Rivendell, where she was going to give her normal ceremony to the lords of Gondor, where her father's best friend Faramir was holding the throne for her as a steward. He was going to be there to. In fact, this was going to be the first time he would go to the ceremony, and it would be the first time she would remember talking to him, as it was necessary to ask how Gondor was for her father's sake.

"Indeed." Marilla whispered, sending the tomb one last look. If she could change _those_ events, she would, but all she needed was the past twenty years back and not a moment too sooner. "A very tiring day indeed."

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Marilla kept her gaze on the river as a familiar voice spoke up. "Mari?" Samwise Gamgee asked, appearing beside her. She barely taller than him by three inches, meaning she was five two. "Mari, everyone is waiting."

The peredhel smiled at her 'uncle' and nodded, smoothing out her white elfish dress. The hobbit disappeared back into the courtyard and her smile fell. "Daddy, why?" she whimpered before composing herself once more. She walked to the Birch tree which had shed its bark – making it white – where two bowed spots of the ground were under its branches. Morning Glories bloomed all day and turned silver in the night around the tree trunk and grave markers as Marilla slowly approached the area she was supposed to stand at.

As soon as the sun light reached her, whispers erupted about how similar she looked to the late prince and King. Desperately trying not to show her tears as she smiled at her grandfathers, who were sitting side by side in the front row along with the Fellowship of the Ring – whom were still alive and in Middle-earth– and their allies. She stood in front of the graves and slowly began to speak as she held two bouquets of flowers. They held **Amaryllises, Bittersweets, Buttercups, Camellias, red Carnations, Cyclamens, white Clovers, some Dandelions, Edelweiss, Everlastings, Eucalyptus, Forget-Me-Nots, Flowering Reeds**, **Globe Amaranths, Hollies, both types of Honeysuckle, Iris, both of the Ivy flowers**(She would have Ipomoea, but those were Morning Glories), Indian and yellow Jasmine, King's Beauty, Larkspur(All three), Lilies, Lilacs, Lilly of the Valleys, Lavender, white Narcissuses, olive blossoms, Petunias, Pansies, Sweet-Williams, Sweet peas, Thorn apples, Windflowers and Yew.

"This year, twenty years ago to this day, Prince Legolas Thranduilson of Mirkwood and King Aragorn of Gondor were slain by Orc invaders. They left behind an eight year old daughter. That daughter stands before the Lords of Gondor and Elvenking, as they have deemed that she no longer needs the treatment ordered upon her all those years ago." Marilla recited, knowing that they would go back on their words. Her human father had been a Dúnedain, which meant an elongated life, and her elf father had, well, been an elf. Her adopted grandfather, Lord Elrond, had given her Evenstar when she was eleven, which was the same age as her father was when he came to the Elven lord. "As I stand before my fathers' graves, I pray to Valinor that my parents find peace, happiness, and joy where ever they may be, whether it is in the ever rising Grey Lands or with the Maker of all. _Guren níniatha n'I lû n'I a-goenitham, Hîr vuin, ada…_" Marilla finished, placing the **first bundle** of flowers on the left grave while she place the second bundleon the right one. "Fairwell my fathers. The next time we meet, it will be on better terms." She swore to the graves under her breath.

The lords came and said their own respects, the Steward being the last. "Marilla Thranduilson, it has been many years since I last saw you." Faramir said, bowing slightly to her.

"There is no need for bows today Faramir." Marilla said. "Today, I am no princess. For today, I am merely a twenty eight year old peredhel mourning the loss of her fathers." Faramir's smile fell.

"Yes… I am sorry. Especially on this day itself." He sighed. Marilla tilted her head in agreement and the crowd made their way to Elrond's Balcony, where she attempted to slip into the corner, but was caught by one of the Lords' son, who was one of those stuck up 'I'm better than you so you do what I say' pricks.

"So _you_ are the princess in waiting that man always speaks of." He said, looking over Marilla as if she was a piece of meat.

"To what man do you speak of?" Marilla asked politely, trying to edge away from him.

"That man your queer of a father called a friend." He sneered, making anger flare to life in her. She curled her fists, knowing if she got into a fist fight, then there would be no explaining how she knew that much fight training she had while being on probation.

"If I recall, same gender bondings or marriages are perfectly normal when it comes to the race of me and elves." Marilla snapped.

"Still a man either way." He scoffed, crossing his arms. Marilla took a deep breath, counted to five, and began to walk away. "In any case, I'm only in this for the throne."

She could only hope that the ass had the black eye for weeks.

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"What were you thinking?" Thranduil hissed.

"That my parents did not deserve the slander than child placed upon them!" Marilla answered hotly. That stopped the Elvenking short on his next sentence as he turned to the teen in question.

"What," He hissed, making the human shrink back before puffing up in arrogance. "Did you say about my son and his fae mate?"

"Why should I tell you?" He sneered.

"Because I am legal guardian of Marilla and I decided whom she marries!" The king was practically foaming at the mouth, so to speak. "What. Did. You. Say?"

"Queers, the lot of you." The human sneered. "Elves no longer rule Middle-earth. You have no leverage over me!"

"Wrong." Marilla snapped. "I am to answer Gondor's throne, which means your father is to answer to me! An unhappy queen is an unhappy kingdom."

"You cannot take the throne without a male to take it as King!" The Human tried another approach as soon as he realized ignoring the Elvenking wasn't going to work. "You must understand that, m'lord."

"I was born into my throne, much like my granddaughter was. If she is unable to claim her right for that very reason, then Gondor will be in anarchy and Greenwood will have their heir fully once more." Thranduil declared smugly, watching the blood drain from the man's face. "Now wouldn't that be a shame if word got out that one of the most esteemed lords' sons went and insulted the princess…"

The overwhelming threat hung over his head as he nodded furiously. Marilla smirked as he practically raced off. "I now see where she gets it." Elrond sighed as he looked over the two. There was no denying they were related, they looked very similar. "You know the drill Marilla. Now do it."

"Yes grandada." Marilla moaned, hugging both before practically skipping off. When she got out of sight, she dashed into her room and dug under her bed, attempting to find the satchel that held what she needed.

"Looking for this?"

With a muffled curse as she hit her head, Marilla's blonde head popped up to see Gandalf the White holding up her brown bag. "That's not yours!" She said hotly.

"Nor are the items inside." He said, a dark undertone in his voice. "What were you planning to do with these relics?"

"None of your damned business, now give it back!" She snapped, trying to take the bag, but Gandalf held it height above her reach.

"Once you tell me." He said in a patient tone. "Now, I have a feeling you are on a tight schedule, so the sooner you tell me, the sooner you can get to whatever you're doing. As long as it goes along with the laws of the White Council." Marilla's heart stopped. She had forgotten about the laws! Her own _grandfather_ was on the council! What would he say? "Now, what is it?"

"I was wanting to fix the wrongs…" Marilla relented, her shoulders slumping. "I've read up on a few stories from the First Age elves and they've achieved it before, but there was a twenty year limit…"

"And tonight is the last year." Gandalf finished, less than amused. "You do realize what could happen if this goes wrong?" Wait, was he…? Marilla looked up to see his grey eyes uneasy. "While it goes against the White Council, we all believe that this and many other things should have never happened. I myself tried to fix a mistake ninety years ago and failed even more than before. I kept a couple from being what they would've been to a couple that should've been and the result is at the heart of the mountain of Erebor."

"Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins?" Marilla guessed, getting a single nod. "If it goes pear shaped and I get sucked say… ninety years ago, do I stop you from making the mistake or let it be?"

"Follow what you believe will be best." He advised. "But I sincerely hope that the scenario you just said does not happen."

"No, it'll probably be the war against Saron." Marilla muttered. Gandalf's eyes flashed uneasily as he began to usher her away from the sleeping rooms and even away from Rivendell itself!

"The noise it creates will render all around deaf for four hours if you are just human." He explained as they reached the moors at midnight. "Be wary of any and all who recognize you as yourself as Marilla Thranduilion."

"I will." Marilla whispered before pulling out a dagger, which glowed any and every color that could be seen. With a deep breath, the peredhel stabbed the ground under her with the dagger, creating a sonic boom that did indeed render her death and unknowingly woke everyone in Rivendell.

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Smoothing out her silver dress, Marilla looked at herself balefully. She had overestimated her jump and landed _two decades_ before Erebor even _fell_. Legolas had found her passed out in the forest and Thranduil had a very deep sneaking suspicion on who she was. Hence the reason why the Elvenking was forcing her to go with him and his son to Erebor.

_Erebor._

Marilla's anger was replaced with a giddy feeling, as she would see the Lonely Mountain within it's golden age, something Dáin and Dwalin always told her of with Bofur. Perhaps she would see the younger versions of them as well… '_Enough._' She thought bitterly. '_That child is gone. In twenty years, Erebor will fall victim to Smaug and thousands will die. Your own grandfather will not approve if you go through with what you plan on doing when it happens._'

There was a knock on her door. "Coming!" She said, going to the door and smiling at Legolas, whom she had grown close to during the few months she had been with the Greenwood elves. "Legolas, are we leaving?"

"You are." He said, his face twisting into one of a sour pose. "Adar says I have to stay here." Marilla felt her gut twist, but she smiled anyways.

"At least one member of royalty must stay." She said with a sad tone. She didn't know if Legolas knew or not – she might've let 'ada' slip somewhere during her delusional state after landing – but he acted as if they were siblings or best friends. "I'm sure Thranduil will let you go next time."

"If there is a next time. Thrór has begun to lose himself to _amlug cael_." Amlug Cael meaning Dragon Sickness, which was the greed that the dwarves get lost in. "His grandchild has warned us of his illness."

Legolas 'filled' Marilla in as the two walked to the throne room, a silver cloack wrapped around Marilla with her hood down as she curtsied to the Elvenking, who bowed his head politely. This travel would allow them to talk of what was bothering them both, no doubt.

Marilla walked beside Thranduil, feeling a sense of Déjà vu as they stopped in front of the throne of Erebor. Only, instead of her clinging to her grandfather's robe with a protective hand on her with Dáin Ironfoot sitting on the throne, looking as troubled as Thranduil, the Elvenking did not know Thrór sat underneath a glowing blue stone that made Marilla cringe ever so slightly. The Arkenstone had been broken and buried with the Durins of Erebor, so this was her first time seeing it face to face. "Thranduil," Thrór said as politely as Dáin was with Elrond. Were things that different before Smaug? "It is nice to see you here in Erebor. Who is this?"

"My own granddaughter, Marilla." Thranduil said, as he had so bluntly demanded to know if she was his son's daughter. There was no saying 'no' to one of the three men who helped raised her, so the truth had been revealed to one already, plus the three royal dwarves in front of them. Marilla curtsied and found her eyes drawn not to the Arkenstone, but to Thorin. The said dwarf's eyes were flickering between Thranduil, Marilla and his grandfather.

"It is a pleasure to be in this wonderful kingdom." She lied, her chest feeling tight. A side of fading, she remembered darkly. Thrór look over her carefully before glancing at Thorin.

"If it is quite alright with you, Thranduil, perhaps my grandson can show you granddaughter around? I was not even aware you had one." Thrór said, something dark flickering over his face. "Is it not tradition to announce a child's birth?"

"We feared for some time that she would not make it. Legolas is truly blessed to receive such a strong daughter, half human or not." And there was the kicker. She had told him that the fae mates would meet, - which also meant telling him she was from the future - but not after something tragic that led them to meet. She had asked him not to tell, but it must've slipped out by accident, and guessing by the look on his face, it did.

"A peredhel? You best be asking Elrond for an evenstar before she grows too old to save." Thrain scoffed, making Marilla shrink back even more before realizing who she was introduced as she stood up straight, not caring if she _was_ half human.

Thrór, however, chuckled. "Blessed indeed. Fae mates, correct?" Marilla nodded stiffly, liking the dwarven king less and less the more he talked. "Thorin, would you like to accompany this fine princess on a tour of our home?"

"It would be my pleasure." Thorin said, just as stiffly as Marilla did. The two met the other's gazes easily, both holding distaste for the king and the other, half surprising Marilla. Dwalin _had_ pointed out that she was very similar to the fallen king that it was scary. "Shall we?"

With a nod from Thranduil, Marilla hesitantly took his out stretched arm and he began to lead her through a detailed tour of the Lonely Mountain.

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Over the twenty years before Erebor's fall, Thorin and Marilla became both great friends and worst enemies. Frerin and Dís had good laughs when the two fought during their prank war, which lasted a good five years before an over happy Thrain had to stop their fun. Later, he had pulled Marilla aside and said that he had never seen his son smile that much before. Finally, that fateful day came. Marilla was halfway armored up when the Horns of Dale blared and howled through the wind, making her cry out. Smaug had come. She remembered this to be the fall of Frerin and Lís, Thorin and Dís' mother.

By the time she had her horse saddled and ready to go, Thranduil and Legolas were already at the head of the army, ready to being their march. "Wait!" She cried out, making them pause before returning to their gallop as she caught up.

"What are you doing?!" Legolas called, looking distressed. Thranduil had let it slip that she knew who his fae mate was, as he had been experiencing the calls and was ready to give up.

"I'm going with you! If Dale is in trouble, then so is Erebor." She said, more worried about the dwarves within it than the future she was changing. Finally, the army got to the top of the hill to show the dwarves fleeing the mountain, Marilla's sharp eyes easily spotting the burns, cuts and bruises on each and every one of them.

The Greenwood princess watching in horror as her grandfather merely turned his stead around and began to walk down the hill. "Thranduil, we have to help them!" She cried out, gaining the attention of a certain dwarf.

"I will not risk our kin to a dragon." He said. Marilla began to see red and her horse reared, showing her anger.

"And if we do nothing, it will only grow stronger and poison Greenwood!" She shrieked. "They called it Mirkwood after this! Beasts and dark beings grew and thrived in our home and you will do nothing to stop it?!"

Thranduil's face grew dark. "We will deal with the problems as they arise." He said, his voice ordering her to stand down in front of his troops.

"No."

The Elvenking's head whipped around with the prince's to stare at her. "I beg your pardon?" He whispered darkly.

"_Alae i dúath, hîrs. Ha del rhach i talath!_" Marilla declared darkly before yanking on her horse's reigns, turning it towards the running elves. Thorin's face had long turned dark, but one last flicker of hope came across his face as she rode down the hill.

"_hên!_" Thranduil cried, but Marilla did not listen as she threw herself off of the horse and gently landed beside an ailing dwarrowdam and her child.

"Take it." She urged, gently placing the youngling on the saddle. The mother looked at her gratefully and Marila turned to see Thrór and Thrain approaching her with grave faces. "_Hîr vein._" She said, bowing.

"Your grandfather will not agree with this." Thrain warned. Marilla almost snarled.

"What my grandfather did was wrong." She half snapped. "If I get disowned, then let me be disowned. I will not leave those I call friends to their deaths." Thrór smiled gently and clapped her shoulder. His smile fell though.

"Frerin, where is he?" He suddenly asked, going pale. Marilla felt her heart drop as Dís rushed towards them, full blown crying.

"They're gone! They're dead!" She wailed. Thorin approached them almost in the same state and Marilla found herself in a dwarf version of a dwarf hug before she realized that she had managed to break enough mental walls to have _them_ engage the physical contact. And it was Thorin of all dwarves who had hugged her!

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Pulling her hood to cover her face, she raced through the rain, the silver silk fabric breezing after her like an over long cape. She had tried to sell it, but Thorin refused and even bought it back after she hadn't listened to him! Honestly, you'd think they were an old married couple! It had been forty seven years since Marilla joined the dwarves of Erebor and she had just received word that Dís was in labor with her second child, who Marilla knew to be Kíli.

Walking into the small house, Marilla peaked in to see little five year old Fíli sitting on the bed beside Dís, looking at the little bundle in his mother's arms as Thorin and Thrain stood beside her. Thrór was still at the house he and Thrain were sharing with Thorin and Marilla, thinking of ways to get Erebor back. Marilla held back a giggle as she heard Fíli so plainly ask when his brother would be playing with him.

"Not for a few more years, I'm afraid." She answered for Dís, whose face lit up at hearing her friend's face. Marilla had been traveling for the past few years – four, so Fíli wouldn't remember her – and only sent letters.

"Marilla." Thorin chuckled after relaxing. "What happened to knocking?"

"What happened to telling their best friend that they were going to be a godmother again?" Marilla shot back, getting a laugh from Thrain as his children shifted guiltily.

"Mama, who's this?" Fíli asked, not even waiting for Dís to answer as he looked at her. "She's pretty. Is she my new sitter?"

"Yes Dís, am I to be young Fíli's sitter?" Marilla parroted, walking into the room fully and folding up her cloak, revealing the simpleton dress she had been forced to wear in the towns of men. "Where is Víli?"

"In the mines. He was so worried that I would go into labor as soon as he left." Dís answered bashfully. Marilla giggled and shook her head, her honey blonde curls falling into her face before she brushed them away. The dwarves hated it when she cut her hair, but she _had_ to!

"And who's going to be the unfortunate bas-." Marilla caughter herself in time and cleared her throat. "Person to tell your wonderful husband his fears came true and he now has a healthy baby boy again?"

"How did you know?" Dís asked.

"I just know." Marilla chuckled with a wink. She slowly went to stand beside Thorin and saw that little Kíli was stirring. The worst part? She could feel her fae, or soul, stirring as well. Tears filled her eyes as the constriction on her chest subsided significantly as a tiny young fae tried to connect with hers. "No… no…" She said, shaking her head and stumbling back, pressing her back against the wall. "_Û!_ Û!" She began to shake.

"Marilla?" Thorin said, stepping towards her.

"_Deri hae!_" She demanded before rushing to the door and fleeing the building, leaving her cloak behind.

Her fae mate did not come forward to stabilize her during her fading period because he could not.

He could not because he was dead.

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**I'm sorry, but the ceremony! ;_; I think I killed my own feels.**

_Guren níniatha n'I lû n'I a-goenitham _- My heard shall weep until I see you again

_Hîr vuin _- My lord(s)

_ada_ - Father/Daddy

_Alae i dúath, hîrs. _- Behold the darkness, Lords.

_Ha del rhach i talath! _- It's horror curses the land.

_hên! _- Child!

_Û!_ - May it not be so!

_Deri hae!_ - Stay far!/Stay away!

**Here is the website that I used for the flowers as each one has a meaning. I suggest you check it out as it will take a poisoned knife to your heart if you understand what half of those were.**

www. buzzle articles/ list- of- flower- names- and- meanings- of- flowers. html

**Just remove the spaces! Review if you spot anything wrong or just want to say hi!**

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**I regret nothing about this.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so, so much for reading the first chapter! Now, until I can make these hundred and some odd years between the fall of Erebor and beginning of the Hobbit go faster, all I can do it drabbles. These first few chapters, if you haven't noticed, were indeed drabbles catching up on what Marilla is doing. This chapter, however, is in what i tried to do of Thorin's POV and goes into a bit more of a detail of the twenty years and all of the little (And big, at the last drabble, it'll make you cry) things. Now, I got a really long review that I plan on going into detail about!**

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Pippa's Ghost - Hello! Yes, thank you for telling me that. I remembered also that there was ten-seventeen years between the ring being destroyed and Frodo sailing, which means at one point in time, Marilla would've met Frodo, Bilbo and Galadriel. (She still sailed, but left a book behind for Marilla, saying she would need it. The said book is always carried on her, but I never mention it just yet.) I try to mark all of my stories as AU, because that's what they are! In my AU, if a male elf is destined to be a fae mate (Soulmate) to another male, he becomes a carrier, which basically means that he is able to be with child/become pregnant. Miscarriages are also possible, especially between a fae pair of a man and elf, so basically, she was spoiled with her parents as she was something rare and to be treasured always. (Arwen is her godmother and is in Middle-earth still. Aragorn and Legolas met in the wreckage of the Battle of Five Armies (My AU calls for Elrond - being the healer him and his elves are - being there to help tend to the wounded) so it would be before they (Aragorn and Arwen) had been able to be in a relationship. Elves know who their fae mates are as their fae stirs and wishes to bond with the other when their mate is near, so those two knew, but didn't do anything for over sixty years) I've changed it to Thranduilion, thank you for that mistake! Boromir knew who Aragorn was, yet he wasn't one of Aragorn's close friends or family. His father was Steward, which meant he was on the council. And since he was one the council and knew, then the council knew of Aragorn. The AU that I have says every royal family announced a birth of a child to all races, so yes, a mere wondering dwarf actually _would_ know that there's a child of gondor running around somewhere, but the line went cold shortly after the Last Allience of Elves and Men, so Arathorn's and Aragorn's births weren't really announced, just rumored. Marilla, in her time, however, _was_ announced. It's not nitpicky, you just want to know of a world that sounds really awesome to be in! I'm glad you like my writing style and I hope that you like this chapter as well. (BTW It's not a silly gimmick. It allows Aragorn to identify her as Legolas' daughter and Legolas to identify her as Aragorn's daughter, which will come in handy near the middle of the third Arc.)

ThorinKiliandFili4ever - Thank you!

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**Damn, 572 words already! Anyways, on with the chapter!**

**I do not own the Hobbit or Lord of the Rings! I am merely borrowing them for my amusement~**

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Had anyone told the crowned prince of Erebor Thorin II that he would befriend an elf naught a month before September 15th, he would have merrily laughed and suggested that they see to a healer for medical help as they had been served with a severe head blow.

* * *

Tis a bitter morning, Thorin thought while standing to the right of his grandfather's throne. Thrór, King Under the Mountain, had progressed deeper into his sickness and lust for gold, and the Elvenking of Greenwood was to arrive. The doors to the throne room opened to reveal five tall beings. Thorin looked upon them in indifference, but his father and grandfather, Thrain and Thrór, looked upon them in hate. Thranduil, the Elvenking, paused and bowed his head respectively. There was a smaller figure beside the Elvenking, Thorin realized as his eyes drifted towards her. She was small, obviously still a babe in both of their terms as she gave it away by how close she was standing to Thranduil. Her smooth honey blonde hair fell just to the middle of her back, cut in a way where the strands outlining her rounded face were the shortest and the ones exactly at the middle of her back were the longest.

"Thranduil," Thrór said as politely as one could expect. "It is nice to see you here in Erebor. Who is this?" Thorin was inclined to agree.

"My own granddaughter, Marilla." Thranduil said, motioning the elfling forward. She curtsied stiffly, her eyes locked onto the youngest crowned prince. Thorin looked towards the Elvenking, spotting the similarities and then to his grandfather, who looked anything but amused.

"It is a pleasure to be in this wonderful kingdom." She said, her words carefully concealing a lie. Thorin felt his grandfather's gaze on him as Thrór spoke.

"If it is quite alright with you, Thranduil, perhaps my grandson can show you granddaughter around? I was not even aware you had one." Thrór said, something dark flickering over his face. "Is it not tradition to announce a child's birth?"

"We feared for some time that she would not make it. Legolas is truly blessed to receive such a strong daughter, half human or not." Thranduil answered diplomatically. Thorin and Thrain found reason within his words. What use was it to announce a birth of a child if they were to pass the next day? No doubt many elves would have faded if that had happened, Thorin thought as he once again looked at the Greenwood princess.

"A peredhel? You best be asking Elrond for an evenstar before she grows too old to save." Thrain scoffed. Erebor's royal family watched as the elfling cringed, obviously hearing that enough at home before standing tall, a flash of defiance flickering in her grey eyes. Thrain's eyes turned darker than Torin would have ever liked and begun to wonder if a touch of Gold Madness has reached his father as well.

Thrór, however, chuckled. "Blessed indeed. Fae mates, correct?" The elfling nodded stiffly, obviously not liking the dwarven king. "Thorin, would you like to accompany this fine princess on a tour of our home?"

Oh, was he ever tempted. Here was his grandfather, the same man who cuffed him and his brother upon the head, saying to watch out for Elves and their trickery, ordering him to escort this _elfling,_ who probably shouldn't have even been away from her mother, around the oldest dwarrow kingdom. But he could not say no. not with the Elvenking and his guards standing in front of them. Not with this elfling standing before them. Not even with Thrór sitting beside him could he say what he wished to say. "It would be my pleasure." He merely said. The elfling locked eyes with him and he saw distrust of his grandfather – that was reasonable, as he _had_ warned them to expect him to be hostile – and of himself, which was equally reasonable. There was no way in Mahal's great name he would ever trust an elf. "Shall we?"

The elfling had no emotions on her face as she nodded and took his outstretched arm, though she did so hesitantly. There were possibly three doorways away from the throne room before she broke their silence. "I… Thank you. Your grandfather does indeed suffer." Her words made Thorin do a full stop.

"You know what it is?" He demanded. The elfing nodded sadly, the emotions easily touching her eyes. "What is it?"

"_Amlug cael_. Dragon Sickness." She answered sadly. "It consumes the soul, leaving nothing but the greed of gold. If left alone for say… decades, it will be powerful enough to wake a dragon and bring him or her here, to Erebor."

"And the cure?"

"There has only been two known ways to snap one out of the sickness." She warned. "Death," Thorin felt his head swim. No, he couldn't lose his grandfather. "Or doing something so horrid that your mind is forcefully taken away from the gold, but the latter only works for a certain time."

"This disturbs me greatly. Surely there is not another way?" He said. Both options were too great and will cause harm either way. The elfling shook her head.

"No. If it is acceptable, I can see if I can send books containing _amlug cael_ so you can see for yourself." She sighed.

* * *

Over the next few months, Thorin poured over the roughly translated books, reading each several times over, each time the grimace on his face growing.

_No hope._

_No chance._

Thrór was as good as _dead._

But who said the Gold Lust, this _amlug cael_ didn't run through the Durin line? He had brought it upon himself to research throughout his line, each case of this sickness being barely documented. It seemed as if it skipped every other generation. He father was safe, but he was not. Frerin and Dís, his younger siblings, were not safe, protected by the sickness. It took everything the crowned prince had not to begin to fall into the dark pit that had taken his grandmother those years ago, when he was just a dwarfling. Thorin slammed his hands against the desk of his study and pushed himself away.

His feet led him to the treasury, where Thrór was spinning around the room, gold and jems slowly being crushed in his hands. The elfling's words echoed in his mind. '_If left alone for say… decades_…' Yes, it had been left alone for decades. It was shortly after Thorin was born did Thrór begin to slip into the Dragon Sickness, as it was called. It caused his grandmother much pain, which slowly caused her passing. Thorin backed away and returned to his study, Köral, his raven at the time, perched on the stand just above the desk. Quickly pulling out parchment, a quill and inkwell, Thorin hastily begun to write an ill-informed letter to the elfling. It was time for the Elves of Greenwood to return from Erebor, or the very less, the Dwarves of Erebor finally visit the Elvenking's realm.

"You know who to give this to." He said, giving the raven the letter. He squawked and flew out of the open window, gliding towards the forest just west of the dwarven kingdom.

* * *

He did not have to wait long.

Less than two days later, a formal letter addressed to Thrór from Thranduil came, inviting the royal family to visit their palace. Dís and Frerin were desperately wanting to know just who or what was taking up their brother's time and why his raven was gone many times a month. Thrain, whom his eldest son had told of his research, had merely told them it was research on the elves and their army whilst sending his eldest son a disapproving look. He wasn't happy about his son having to talk to an elf, never mind on of the royal family, but she was the only way to save the king from this madness. Thrór wasn't happy, nor was he mad. He merely ordered for Thrain, Thorin, Dís and Frerin, leaving Thrain's One and consort, Lís, and him to watch the mountain, to accept and be back as soon as possible, despite the fact that it would take two days to travel there – plus however long Thrain and Thorin take with this elfling to find a way to keep Thorin, Dís and Frerin from contracting the Sickness – the weeklong tour (Honestly, Erebor only took three days and that was glossing over some areas), and the two day ride back.

Over the week preparing to leave, Dís had somehow managed to sneak into his room and get at least two letters pertaining to their grandfather's illness and their real reason for the Greenwood Elves to be in constant traveling between their lands. "Thorin, just when did you plan on telling us you've been writing in secret to this princess?" Dís asked hotly. Once again, she had mistaken something of his to be something else. "What is she like? Is she like a dwarrowdam or something else?"

"Dís, what are you talking about?" Thorin asked. That's when he noticed the elfling's letter in her grip. He remembered that letter well. Somehow through the letters, a type of teasing war had begun and that was one of the worse ones. "Why," He hissed. "Do you have that?"

"You never speak to us anymore." Frerin said from where he was reading yet another letter. It was one of the first ones, when they had been more formal. "This princess, she knows something that can get grandfather sane again?"

"We are trying, yes. The sickness skips every generation. Father is safe, but…" Dís knew what Thorin was saying and paled under her black beard. "The elfling is trying to find a way with me and father to stop _us_ from getting it. Grandfather… is past the point of redemption." Frerin's shoulders slumped, but he nodded. "We have to get ready. We'll be gone for two weeks."

* * *

As the royal family walked towards the throne of the Elvenking, He noticed that the elfling – Marilla, he amended. She deserved the respect he needed to give to her – was standing in the shadows with the Prince standing to the left of Thranduil, who was looking at the eldest grandchild in slight interest. "Greetings Thrain, son of Thrór. You have decided to bless us in our halls at last."

"More of my sons and daughter." Thrain amended 'regretfully'.

"Marilla," Thranduil called. The peredhel quickly walked forward, not looking at any elf. Thorin half wondered why until he realized she hadn't been announced. She had to pose as a servant! "See the line of Durin to their rooms."

"Yes m'lord." She said with a bow. She turned to the dwarves and motioned for them to follow her. "You'll find that the Elvenking's halls are much like a maze. Unless you have been raised here, you will sure to get lost as soon as you step out of your room." Dís shot Thorin a smug look, who returned with a dark one. No need to say he had _no_ sense of direction now!

"Are we out of earshot?" Thrain whispered.

"Yes." She answered, turning around to look at Dís and Frerin. "Do they know?"

"Found out four days ago." Frerin said with a crooked grin. He had been cuffed on his head, told not to fall for an elf's sorcery, but upon looking on this one!

"Then you know the danger all of you are in." Marilla said seriously. "It is common for it to skip generations, but it has been heard to affect all in the family." Thrain sighed, but nodded sadly.

"I will not succumb to the madness. I would rather be tortured by Orcs before it touches me." He said, looking at his children. "We shall talk about things tomorrow. For now, we must rest." Marilla bowed her head slightly and lead them to their rooms. Thorin, for one, was starting to believe maybe, just maybe, there was one trust worthy elf.

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It was ten years after Marilla had been introduced to the Durin line when it happened.

Thorin was sparring with Dwalin while Marilla walked into the courtyard with a tittering Dís. That should have been the first warning. Marilla and Dís always butted heads – much like him and his sister – except when it came to the said dwarf. Dwalin stopped and watched them, making Thorin look as well. Dís had something that she gave to Marilla, who was grinning evilly. "No good comes from a grinning elf." Dwalin grunted, telling the age old dwarf rhyme. "Best be wary."

"Best start sparring." Dís called in an evil tone. Both dwarrows paled and turned to each other. Best not get on the bad side of Dís.

When the crowned prince went into his bathing room that night – it had come with a shower with the heated water of Erebor herself – he failed to notice the powdered paint sitting atop the water fall of the shower. He stripped and was in the middle of washing when something thick and sticky fell on him. Not opening his eyes just yet, the dwarven prince reached up and felt the thick liquid with his fingers. His bright blue eyes snapped open to see a silver paint coating him from head to toe, his beard not spared. Instantly, he knew who had pranked him. It was the color of the Elvenking's brand!

"_Dís! Marilla!_"

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Thorin was helping many dwarflings and their parents – if they had any left – when the elves of Greenwood came across the hill. "Help!" He called. He watched as Thranduil tilted his head and turn his troops around. A very dark look flashed over the royal family's face before they realized one elf stayed behind. Something happened that caused her pony to rear before she snapped it around and bolted down the hill, towards Erebor. '_Marilla_.' Thorin thought as she stopped in front of a dwarrowdam and her child, easily giving her pony to them without a second thought. His sister came up beside him and he instantly knew by her face and shaking joints that something was terribly wrong.

"Frerin… Amad…" She whispered. "They're still in there…" Thorin felt his own eyes grow damp as he desperately tried to deny it. No…

"But… Frerin… he was right beside me! And amad was with father!" He tried to argue, but his voice ended up shaking. "They can't be… they can't…" But Dís was already gone, stumbling towards Thrain and Thrór, who were talking to Marilla. Marilla… their mother had practically adopted the young elf as soon as they had heard when they had first met her she was only twenty nine. Frerin had been infatuated for the first year they had officially met, but they had a deep sibling bond that could rival his and Dís'. Speaking of family bonds, it was odd of him, but he saw her as someone to protect, like a daughter or niece instead of a sister.

The peredhel seemed to be in a dazed state, but not that shocked up until Thorin grabbed her and Dis into a tight hug. They all needed comfort. "Thorin, we must leave before he comes back out." Marilla whispered. Twenty years of friendship between them knew she was correct and the royal family were the last ones to leave the ruined kingdom, making sure no one fell behind. "Dale is ruined. Those men who managed to escape will not being welcoming towards any Ereborean dwarf they see." She warned. Thorin shared a look with Dís before the two went to stand close to the young peredhel. She was too emotionless for their liking. Was it a defense against grief she had? To cut off any emotions?

It was possibly three hours later, when the shock of the dragon attack begun to either fade or set in. "Father, we cannot go on." Thrain told Thrór, who was looking at his subjects sadly. There was supposed to be at least twice as many dwarves, but the dragon had taken most. "We have too many injured and many will pass from shock if untreated," He looked at Dís and Marilla – the latter had finally begun to shake and had to sit down on a random rock with Thorin attempting to help her. "Your grandchildren, both blood and adopted." Thrór was about to snap – the elf could never be related to him after what they had done! – When he followed his son's gaze to see a pale Marilla arguing with Thorin.

"Rest we shall." Thrór agreed.

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Twenty-six years later, nineteen years before the Battle of Azanulbizar, or Moria to most Common Tongue speaking peoples, Marilla and Thorin were walking through a market, receiving strange looks for those who knew of the dwarven prince. "They're staring again." Marilla chuckled, her blue velvet dress barely her ankles, and since they were in a town of men, shown ankles were a no. Dís, bless her, had made this their first year in exile and now the peredhel found herself finally growing at the wrong time. She felt the smooth fabric within her bag and looked behind her before looking at Thorin before letting a smirk play on her face. "To think, I actually believed what you said." She sniffed. Thorin looked confused before doing the same as she had done naught a minute before.

"I assure you, I meant every word." He said with an edged chuckle. Whispers erupted from behind them, making both titter. Laughs such as that were rare ever since Erebor had fallen, and even before Azanulbizar, there had been none bar those few times within the villages of men such as this. Thorin knew his friend had suffered more than all of the royal family. He still had his sister. She was an only child who turned her back on her own kin to help those she cared for. "Where shall we begin?"

"Food. Dís is having Víli over." Marilla answered, nodding towards some food stalls. Thorin scowled at the thought of seeing his sister's newest infatuation, but considering that she was willing to let them – Marilla and him – meet him said something that this was more than a passing fancy. Not to mention that Marilla had begun to scout the areas within the Blue Mountains for places to settle for good. She easily bought meats of all sorts along with some vegetables, which made Thorin scowl even more, but he knew that with those, she could made even the most stubborn, hard headed dwarf eat them without a complaint. Something about her human parent using the same recipes to make her eat them. "What do you think Thorin?"

The dwarven prince snapped from his thoughts to see an exotic meat from the east in front of them. "What?" He asked, making the man holding said meat chuckle and the peredhel sigh sadly.

"Do you think we should try this? I've never seen it before." She repeated. Thorin looked over the piece carefully. True, neither knew what it was nor if it was supposed to be cooked a certain way or not, but it would not hurt… would it?

"It would not hurt, but I would be wary of it." He said. Marilla nodded and bought the mystery meat. They then dispersed with the coins they had left, Marilla watching Thorin disappear towards the smithy – it was a slow day, slow enough that he could easily walk around with her without worrying – before turning to the clothing stall.

However, despite what the peredhel's eagle eyes could tell, Thorin was still watching her. "Just what are you doing?" He asked, walking beside her as she pulled out her silver cloak, the one last thing of her kin besides her memory.

"We need the money." She said softly. "It's of elven weave. Greenwood, to be exact. It's the finest weave and is used by the royal family and their close friends only."

"It's worn." The woman said flatly. "And is in poor condition." Thorin bristled while Marilla kept her poker face in place.

"I can assure you," Thorin snapped. "Her cloak is in perfect condition! We're leaving Marilla."

"Not until I sell this." She argued. "We need the money, the dwarflings need the help."

"I know, but I won't let you sell the last thing of your homeland!" Thorin snapped. Marilla's eyes widened slightly before her eyes flashed in defiance.

"You sell things of your home as well. Why can't I?" She demanded. "Five gold, thirty silver and two hundred and fifty bronze. No less." The woman looked at the fuming dwarf warily, before nodding.

"Because I have things beside memories to remember my kin by." Thorin argued. He felt guilty, but it needed to be said. "You should have left us to burn. Stayed with your own kin."

"But I didn't." She snapped, handing over the cloak and took the hesitantly outstretched pouch. Thorin growled, took the pouch from her hand and switched the two.

"No, you didn't. That's why I'm not going to let you sell this." He said in a softer tone. "Don't allow her to give you this cloak." He warned the human, who nodded. Hell hath no fury like a dwarf.

Marilla scowled, but took her cloak back.

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Hearing groaning, Thorin woke up to see Marilla hugging the window ceil. Dís was lying beside her, looking pale. They, plus Víli, had eaten the mystery meat Marilla had bought that afternoon, which was obviously spoiled. He was the only one of the four who didn't eat it. With an edged chuckle at his luck, he got up and walked to the two, the peredhel looking up at him pathetically. "Told you to be wary of it."

"I didn't know!" She moaned. "It was bad. Oh, Aulë, Víli ate the meat!" Thorin shook his head and helped the peredhel up. No doubt when Dís woke up, she would be in a right state as well.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, you are going to see Óin." He said firmly, making her scowl.

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Looking around, Thorin could tell something was wrong. So very few of them stood – a hundred of the thousand he had brought, he thought grimly – but there was one form he could not see. "Balin, Dwalin!" He called, attempting to move past the many bodies of dwarves and orcs, all glassy eyed in death. "Marilla, where is she?"

"She was with you the last time I saw her." The ex-scholar said uncertainly. Thorin shook his head, dread wielding within him like an overly sharp sword.

"She went to help Víli." He said, his bright blue eyes turning dark as they begun to search around the bodies. There they found Bifur, quickly calling Óin over as they realized he was still alive. The axe had not gone deep, but if taken out, it would kill him. From there, Thorin's stomach left him as he found a perfect circle with one person laying in the middle of it. Víli.

Víli, the commoner dwarf who had become his sister's One, was laying, looking peaceful in death, his eyes shut and a smile playing on his lips. If Víli was gone… then where was Marilla? As the dwarven prince's search became for frantic, his mind wondered how it came to be like this. Searching for an elf after what they did. He loved her, yes, but she was his sister, his ward, nothing more, nothing less. She had told him while marching into this battle she had met her fae mate, or One. She had even admitted that it was his youngest sister-son! It was why she never allowed skin to skin contact, as she had also stated that it would allow their faes to bond and essentially become married in the elves' eyes. Another circle was spotted and he rushed forward, spotting a patch of blonde underneath a body of an orc. Quickly throwing it off, he found Marilla, whose grey eyes were glazed, but still held a spark of life.

"Marilla!" He said. The peredhel stirred ever so slightly as he picked her up, being careful of the arrows in her upper chest – none hit her heart or lungs, thankfully – and the stab wound just to the right of her stomach. She let out a choked cough as blood dribbled out of her lips.

"T-Thorin…?" She murmured. The dwarf said nothing as he laid her beside Bifur and Óin, the latter finishing what he could with the potter. He looked at the peredhel with sad eyes and slowly begun to work on her as well.

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The journey to Erid Luin, the place Marilla had found for the dwarven settlement, was a somber one. No songs of victory were sung. No songs of grief could be heard. Far too many had been lost, and those who wished to bring the bodies of their loved ones back were experiencing shock many times over as they turned to talk to their One or brother to find them no longer there and then remember their death later of after asking. Thorin was one of those few who was better off, but not by much. His grandfather had been killed in front of him and his father was missing, dead, no doubt. Víli, his sister's One, was dead. His sister-sons no longer had a father. Marilla, the brave stupid elfling, had gone against Bolg, Azog the Defiler's son without a second thought about what would happen if she were killed.

Marilla had woken up a few times over the weeks they spent traveling, her wounds slowly getting better, but she still had a long road of healing ahead of her. It was bordering on the third week when they finally got back. Young Fíli and Kíli – Fíli being fifteen and Kíli being ten – raced from their mother's grasp and tackled their uncle into a hug. "Uncle Thorin, where's Maria?" Kíli asked. Maria was his nickname for Marilla, as when he was younger and started talking he had issues with the 'l's in her name. "Where's dâd?"

Thorin's face never wavered as he stood up and looked behind him on the wagon. Despite him not wanting to, he had been forced to place Víli and Marilla side by side, both extremely pale. Marilla was in a forced healing trance, and, per usual elf style, her eyes were open while doing so. "Go back to your amad." He said softly, pushing the two back. Fíli knew something was wrong, but Kíli ran before either of them could catch him and climbed on the wagon.

"Maria, dâd!" He cried out. Dís wailed as she saw her brother's heartbroken expression and collapsed. "Dâd?" Thorin went to grab the young dwarfling, but he skittered away towards Marilla and shook her as well. "Uncle Thorin, why are her eyes open? Is she daydreaming?" Fíli's own face fell at the question, as he already knew that there was death, and it happened to everyone.

"Kee, why don't we go back to our rooms?" He asked softly. The youngest prince frowned.

"But I wanna play with Maria!"

"Now Kíli!"

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_Amlug cael_ - Dragon Sickness**  
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**I sometimes wonder if I hate myself.**

**Leave a review if you see something wrong or if you just want to say hi!**


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